Losing my resistance
by poppy-fields
Summary: Sark returns to the CIA with a something they want. It results to him spending valuable time with Sydney. They are both left with limitations they are both struggling with. -Updated-
1. Tipped

**Losing my resistance**

**Summary: **Sark returns to the CIA with a something they want. It results to him spending valuable time with Sydney. They are both left with limitations they are both struggling with. SS

**Rating: **T, to be safe.

**Note: **This chapter is a mess, I feel it. But I'll continue it :o) because I love sarkney.

o-o

The Los Angeles sun streaked across the paths of morning goers. Sydney Bristow was no exception. The sprinklers went off in synchronization, filling the air with the smell of wet grass. _Ah, the smell of morning. _Running by the cold sprinkles of water, Sydney got herself all wet, and content. This was all she needed, not some ops, nor aliases, nor dead lovers and friends, not even a cocky British nemesis. _Son of a bitch._ All she needed was to be Sydney Bristow.

But like waking up from a dream by an alarm clock, Sydney was snapped back up to reality by her beeper. _Shit!_ She thought.

_Urgent. Get to headquarters._

Her day just turned far more interesting.

o-o

Sydney rushed past the doors in her full seat-gear, with mud and wet grass in her shoe soles. "Dad, what's so urgent?"

"Sark's back, and he's got intel"

"What? So where was he all along?"

"He won't tell, but he's currently being interrogated by Sloane along with the rest" Jack paused and turned himself to Sydney

Sydney crossed her arms in thought. She's trying to digest that Sark is attempting to contribute to their operation, "He's becoming an asset"

"We can't take chances that big, Sydney. It's too risky"

o-o-o

Sydney and her father entered the room strangely similar to Irina Derevko's containment cell during her stay with the CIA. Julian Lazarey, or Sark and they conveniently call him, sat in lonesome. Sark stood out of the white walls with his orange jumpsuit. He slumped in his chair, staring straight into the glass separating him from his captors.

Sydney surfaced from behind the mob of his interrogators led by Marcus Dixon. She intimidated Sark with the look in her face. She was furious, she was to blame for his escape in their last mission. Sark took notice of her strong presence by sitting straight up and crossing his arms.

_That Cocky British bastard._

Sark held his gaze up to hers, keeping their line of sight undisturbed. He kept his condescending smirk plastered upon his face.

"Why did you come back, Sark?"

"Was that a question, Agent Bristow? Because it did not sound like one--"

Dixon interrupted, "Just answer the question"

Sark pursed his lips and continued, "I told you I'm a man of my word, Sydney," He continued, "I fled from Venice to get a new tip on the active bomb trading in the black market. I returned, because I got a good one"

"Elaborate"

"It would take place in just a matter of hours. It could be intercepted"

Sark stood from his position and divulged the details of the supposed exchange. The main players of the trade are: Fidelio Ruzo and Mischa Ivanovsky. The location is at a Villa in Tuscany with maximum security on surveillance and weapons of guests. The gathering is mainly for high black market dealers. That is why he got invited.

"So how the hell do you expect us to get in, we are not on the guest list" Sydney asked.

"I got an invitation for two" he paused. "The other invite is for Lauren Reed"

Sydney shut her eyes in frustration. _Not again_

Sloane motioned the rest of the team to move to the briefing room. Sydney remained motionless as the viewing area emptied, leaving her alone with Sark.

Sark just stared back at her, smirking. He came to the realization that he was staring at someone as equally capable as his abilities, but was in no line to use it against him. He inched closer to the glass, increasing Sydney's frustration. Oh, how she wanted to grab him and personally rip the arrogance out of him.

"You just ruined my good morning, you son of a bitch"

Before Sydney left the room Sark reminded her that he _is _really a son of a bitch, and she is just calling him by the truth. She realized that he does have a point, he definitely is a dog, and he knows it. She turned to look at him crossing his arms, victorious.

_Bastard_

o-o-o

In the briefing room, Sloane smoothed out any cracks in the plan. Sydney would be going as Lauren Reed. Sark's surveillance bug would automatically turn off as the enter Tuscany. The car's surveillance would then be activated. Their extraction would be in a matter of 24 hours from their arrival in the gathering.

o-o-o

Sydney broke out Lauren Reed's file footages and studied her actions, reactions, accent, and movements. Michael Vaughn cringed at the thought of his deceitful dead wife. He placed his hand on Sydney's shoulder, reassuring her nerves. It was visual that Sydney was nervous for this mission. She never went to one without any gadgets.

"Syd, he may hurt you, you know we can't monitor you in this mission"

She looked up to Vaughn looking down at her, face filled with concern "I can protect myself, Vaughn"

"I know you can, but this _is_ Sark"

"So what? I can handle him"

"You have had some close calls, Sydney. We can't be sure"

Sydney kept her eyes on Vaughn. How could he doubt her abilities?

She insisted to have learned from her mistakes, and did study Sark's points. Their conversation ended with a sour note. Sydney was then eager to get to the field.

o-o-o

**Tuscany**

Their arrival was smooth, and everything seemed to be in perfect order, they were assisted until they reached Toscana. Sydney took over the wheel of Sark's car. She heard a faint _beep_ under the car, and assumed it was the car's surveillance being activated.

"You are now bug free, Sark"

"Finally, I can breathe. It was getting horrible for me to move"

"Get used to it"

Sydney stopped by a road shoulder, along a very picturesque view. A patch of Italian Cyprus trees concentrated in the middle of a vast stretch of greens. She scrambled from bag to bag for her camera.

"What are you looking for?"

"My camera. Nadia wanted me to take a picture of Tuscany. She's been fascinated by this place ever since. And that looks like a good spot"

"Si, Toscana. Bella!" said Sark with the usual upbeat Italian accent.

Surprised by his impromptu accent-play, Sydney abruptly stopped scrambling and looked at him with a face that spells out confusion. "Well, that was highly unlike you"

Sark sighed and put on his sunglasses and snapped back to his polished self, not rattling his usual persona. "Tuscany does wonders to me"

"Oh yeah? What possible wonders could be done to cold-hearted murderers? Make them trigger-happy?" She said, focusing her camera on both her and the view.

"That's a need-to-know, Agent Bristow" He said, looking at her ridiculous attempt to fit the entire view and herself by her arm's length, "And let me do that for you"

He reached for Sydney's camera, and she instructed him with the buttons. Sydney tied her hair up in a high ponytail to shield from the wind, and Sark clicked away. Sydney gave him a quick 'thank-you' nod, and previewed her picture.

Sark walked over to the railing and leaned over, as if he was soaking in the mood. Sydney was quick to notice the picture-opportunity Sark made. He was in all black against the vibrant colors of the Tuscan plane. For a man with a nefarious reputation, he makes a very beautiful view.

"Sark"

"Yes, Sydney?"

She held her camera up "C'mon, for novelty's sake. It's not all the time I am stuck in Tuscany with you"

Sark smiled as he reached his hand out to assist Sydney to the field, just off the road. It just took three pictures of them with the assistance from a local Italian biker who did not count to three when taking their pictures.

They cut their tourist moment off and headed to their temporary location, their version of the headquarters. They decided on a small bed and breakfast foliaged by tall Cyprus trees.

o-o-o

They stopped short of the inn's door as Sydney scanned the information provided for her. She saw the creases on the edge of the papers and remembered Vaughn's habit of fiddling with paper edges whenever he was thinking intently. She smiled at the imagery she got of him. She flipped the pages. Looking for something that was not there, their aliases.

_Damnit!_

"Is there a problem, Agent Bristow?"

"We are supposed to pose a newlyweds, stop smiling" she continued, "but they did not provide us with any names that we could use"

"How hard could naming possibly be, Sydney?"

"Any name could be a possible guest in this place"

"I have something in mind, let me do the talking with the reception"

Sydney hesitated but eventually agreed, what harm could he do with names? Sark held the door open, and Sydney smoothed in. As he slid his arm around her waist, they put on a 'happy' face, such as of a newlywed couple.

"Buon giorno, may I help you?"

Sark forced himself to put on an American accent, "Ah, yes. We are in here, in Toscana, for our honeymoon. And we are wondering if your place offers any vacancy"

The receptionist tapped on his keyboard, negatively shaking his head. But with a nod, he looked up and smiled. "There is one more room left, in Sansovino 1, would you like to take that?"

Sark looked at Sydney for confirmation, and she nodded. "Yes, we would" He moved his hand up to her shoulder. Sydney felt her stomach curl at the slightest touch of his hand to the material of her shirt.

"Okay, may I have your names please"?

"Woodstock and Sanaa Wilson" he said looking at Sydney, who clearly was amused by their aliases.

The proceedings were done, and Sark suggested a 'strong finish'.

"We don't have to, Sark. So dream on" hissed Sydney

"We _are_ newlyweds, Sydney. And your precious boyfriend is not watching us now, you have no reason to by shy"

Sydney stared at him, and decided to leave him then and there. She grabbed the keys from his hand, her luggage, and went to their 'honeymoon room'.

o-o-o

Nighttime fell, and the mission objective time was approaching. Sydney was in the balcony walking back and forth with her dress zipper undone. She was mimicking Lauren Reed's accent and copying her facial expressions with a mirror. Her frustration was, instead, amusing Sark.

Sydney leaned in the balcony and realized that the place was more beautiful at night. She felt a hand on her shoulder as the air around her was filled with the scent of Sark's perfume. He slowly glided the zipper of her sleek, flowing dress that complimented her every curve.

"Thanks, but I could have handled that, Sark."

He leaned beside her, and shifted his body to her direction, "Sydney, if we are going to work together, you'd have to learn to ask for my help"

Sydney glared at him "I don't like asking help from someone who wants to kill me"

"You know I can't kill you, Sydney"

"And why can't you?"

Sark stayed silent as looked away from her. He ran his hand over his newly buzzed-cut hair, straightened his suit and walked back in the room, "Because, Sydney, you are like Tuscany to me"

o-o-o

_--To be continued…soon--_


	2. Escargot

**Losing my Resistance**

**Ch. 2**

o-o-o

The car was parked a good distance away from the villa. Sydney struggled with her high heels and the rocky pavement, but Sark was there to assist her almost immediately. Sydney, being as she is, reluctantly accepted his help. The villa was huge, marbled and lined with terra cotta pots overflowing with blooming flowers.

They took time to refresh their memories of the night's mission: watch, follow, deceive, kill, and voila! The deed would be done; the plan was simple and easy, as it is supposed to be. The doors of the villa flew open to a lavish ballroom. Guests were coming out from every corner, different voices buzzed from left to right, but there was something that stood out…their target. Mischa Ivanovsky, patiently waiting in his table with no one else but a burly bodyguard.

"Time for you to get to work, Sydney" Sark whispered to Sydney as they settled in their table for two. Sydney nodded in agreement. And as quick as they settled in their table, they were on the dance floor.

"What dances do you know?" asked Sydney

"Us dancing is not part of the plan, Sydney"

"Well, you not cooperating is not part of it either" She said, grabbing his hand and dragged him towards the center, keeping the view of their target. "Now, dance"

He cradled Sydney's back and held her hand as he dipped her, "As you wish, Miss Bristow" He smirked. He took a whiff of Sydney's perfume; he spun her and shifted to a 'prom dance' mode.

The dance was slow, they inched their way to their target, who was savagely eating a massive _panini_. Sydney, catching a good view of him, flashed him a seductive smile. Her target smiled back. She found herself flirting him in the most unabashed of ways.

"Well, that was shameless. You surprise me, Sydney" Sark said as he caught a glimpse of her licking her lips.

"I know. But it always works for guys like him. They like hooker-like girls"

"Indeed" he paused, "Funny, you are such a natural with being 'hooker-esque'… due to experience, perhaps?"

Sydney's look stopped his following retort. Their silence was immediately put into a halt when the other player in the game arrived. Fidelio Ruzo.

"Let's move closer, Sark"

Sark turned their position so that Sydney's back faced the exchange, "No, the bodyguard is looking on, he may suspect us"

"What's happening right now?"

"They're talking…talking. Now, the bomb is being handed over"

"Wait, if the security is so tight, then how did they get the bomb in here?"

"Ruzo owns this place. It's only natural to go against your own house rules"

Sydney nodded, "what's happening right now?" _I've always liked his perfume; maybe I should get one for Vaughn. But, what if he thinks—_

"Lauren! Are you listening?"

"Huh? What? I'm sorry…I was thinking of—never mind" She looked over her shoulder and Ivanovsky was nowhere on the table, "What happened? Where's the bomb?" She immediately detached herself form Sark and looked from corner to corner.

"I told you that we should move, but you were not listening to me" he sighed, "He's headed to his car, follow him, and distract him"

"And where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going to look for some weapon I could use, like an ashtray or so. I have to be resourceful"

"Oh, here, Marshall thought it would be useful, and apparently it is" She handed him the man-made diamond hanging from her neck. "It passed the inspection, it's used to cut glass"

o-o-o

Sydney followed Ivanovsky from the shadows, adjusting her 'hair'. She waited patiently for him to board the car before she prematurely attacked the bodyguard outside the car in complete silence.

"Hugo, where are you? Start the car now"

Strutting her way into the backseat, she turned on her charms, "We won't be needing Hugo now, Darling". She ran her fingers down his chest.

"Miss Reed, I'm liking your new talents. I'm not complaining" He remained perfectly still, she did not appear as someone to be alarmed by, he just let her do her job.

Meanwhile, Sark made his way to the restroom cubicle, took down the hanged photograph, and sliced away the glass protecting it.

_Sark, where the hell are you? _Sydney continued teasing the ignorant man, but keeping her sights on the suitcase properly tucked under the seat. _This bastard is expecting something to actually happen. _

Before Sydney's night could into a potential disaster in her mind, a loud knock came from the backseat window. The door immediately flew open with Ivanovsky toppling out. Sydney grabbed the suitcase as Sark dove the shear of glass down to Ivanovsky's chest.

The bodyguard, Hugo, regained consciousness and attacked Sark. Sydney kicked the back of Hugo, aiming with her heel. _Thank god for slits. _She helped Sark up, and he used the bloody shear of glass to end the fight with Hugo. The lifeless bodies of the target and his bodyguard were positioned in the car, to avoid much attention.

Breathless, Sark straightened his suit, "Well, that was…quick. Is the CIA doubting the abilities we have?"

Sydney looked at the weapon in Sark's hand, "Are those the reasons you took so long?" she pointed out to the wispy shear of glass, "You had to make it look so good" she said sarcastically.

He raised his weapons up and admired his handiwork. "I actually made three, but Hugo over there, shattered the others"

o-o-o

"Escargot? I thought Ruzo was Italian?"

"He is. I guess he just likes the taste of these"

"But Sark, I don't eat snails" She said, lightly poking the snails with her fork.

"Neither do I. But Lauren does, it's her favorite, so I suppose you do have to take it to stay in character" he said, doing the same as Sydney.

She stared at her 'meal' and attempted to take a bite before she put down her fork in defeat, "I would if I could, but I can't. It's too disgusting"

Sark let out a laugh and leaned on his chair, "I never expected snails to be your weakness, of all the things imaginable"

Sydney remained silent, admitting her defeat over the cooked snails. She was hungry and tired and was deciding to proceed back to the bed and breakfast and sleep her hunger off, besides, their mission was already accomplished. There was no further reason to remain around the location.

Sark took notice on Sydney's situation, he sighed, and stood up. "Get up"

"What?"

"Get up. There's a nearby McDonald's, in Siena. I'll drive us there" he said, avoiding Sydney's eyes.

"I never knew you cared about me"

Sark Smirked, "I don't"

Sydney smiled, hooked her arm unto his, and walked away from the snails.

o-o-o

He held the door open for Sydney. She reminded him that she did not need his help. She took of her wig and loosened her shoe straps. Sark wore his sunglasses.

"Sunglasses? At night, Sark?"

"Night vision"

Before the got the ignition started, Sydney's paranoia kicked in, she gripped Sark's collar, "Listen, I am going to rest on the way there. And if I wake up in Hong Kong, LA, Russia or wherever, I swear to god, you are the first thing I am going to hunt down and I won't hesitate to kill you with my bare hands and throw you back to hell"

Sark's eyes widened in shock of her sudden burst of threats, "I won't harm you, Sydney. Nor allow anything to harm you". He paused and broke out in laughter, "Now that sounds damn near poetic"

Her brows furrowed at him and she loosened him from her grip. She leaned back and went to sleep.

o-o-o

"Wake up"

Sydney slowly regained consciousness and scanned her surroundings. "Are we there yet?" She ran her hands on her arms to ward of the cold, but she, instead, felt a foreign material against her skin. It was Sark's suit jacket.

"Yes, but we have to walk up to the plaza" he said, looking at her confusion with his jacket, "Keep that for now, it's cold"

"What about you?"

"I can manage. Now let's go, I know you're hungry. I don't want the CIA thinking that I starved you"

They walked an uphill climb, passing by dimly lit shops, closed stores, and whistling teenage boys. Sydney wrapped Sark's jacked tighter around her; the night was growing colder, such as an approaching storm.

From the distance Sydney spotted two golden arches peeking out from the middle of the plaza.

They entered and took seats in the establishment that clashed with its surroundings. This had striking red, yellow, and white exteriors and a big sign that says: "McDonald's".

Sydney pulled out a pen and started writing down orders on her palm. "What are you having?"

Sark scoffed, "I don't like the food served here"

"Fine, posh spice, whatever you say", Sydney stood up, "You'd better be here when I get back

Sark locked his sights on her as she moved away from their table. He buried his head in his hands, groaning at his unanswered questions in his mind.

In moments, Sydney retuned with a tray full of food, fit for at least three people. "Here we are"

"Good grief, Sydney. Are you pregnant?"

She smiled, "No, I'm with a whiny child" she handed him his large fries, his coke, and his Crispy McBacon. "It may look a lot, but it's not much. So don't worry, you won't lose your figure"

Sark lightly threw his head back and smiled, "You ordered for me? Why, I never know you cared"

"I don't. but I am just not as heartless as you" she paused, "So, what did you do while I was gone?"

Sark took a sip from his drink, "Uh, just thinking"

"About your escape plan? Because, I guarantee you that you'll not succeed. By tomorrow night, you are going to be thrown back to your --"

"For the final time, I'm not going to escape. And I believe that I'm not going back to my awful home with the CIA by tomorrow"

"Oh really, and why is that?"

Sark lowered his voice in attempt of secrecy, "I overheard, while I was in the restroom making the shears, that there would be a new bomb exchange that's going to take place" he paused, "In London"

As Sydney asked about the details, a big group of young teenagers sat right next to them. They could not risk divulging any information about possible global threats while young teenagers were checking them out. It would spell out disaster.

They finished their fast food meal and decided to go back to their honeymoon room. It could have been a smooth walk balk to the car if Sark did not start feeling soft drops of rain on his hair. Before they knew it, they were running for cover. They settled in a dimly lit dessert lounge.

They laughed at their situation on how they were easily scared off by the rain. Sydney realized that she was still holding Sark's hand from where he prevented her from slipping in the pavement. She did not want to let go, but she casually slipped her hand off, causing Sark to let out an apology for holding her hand.

"It's okay, I actually need to thank you for saving me from embarrassment"

"It's my pleasure" he paused, scanning his surroundings, "We should stay here until the rain stops"

"Yeah, we should" She said. Her eyes widened when she looked around the lounge that resembled an old wine cellar. "Wow, this place is so beautiful, bordering on romantic"

Sark looked at Sydney "Are you trying to tell me something, Miss Bristow?" he joked

Sydney glared at him, "Well, are you expecting me to tell you something?"

Sark did not have anything to answer back, and she laughed at his defeat over their little banter. They stood in silence, in the middle of the empty lounge; the small town has retreated for the night. Sydney just unconsciously fixed Sark's collar when a big, huff, voice came from behind them with a strong Italian accent,

"Julian?"

o-o-o

_--To be continued…soon--_


	3. Semiperfect

**Ch.3 Losing my resistance**

**o-o-o**

"Julian?"

Sydney felt a cold chill run down her spine when she heard the name that was called out by someone's voice. But, what she heard was _Julia, _not Julian. She turned to look at Sark's, but he had gone to the direction of the elderly caller. She used her eavesdropping skills to listen in to the conversation Sark was having. Privacy was no longer an issue between the two of them. But all she heard was the man's name, Danilo.

Danilo used to be the old cook in the Lazarey household when Sark was still a young boy. He was treated by Sark as his surrogate father. Danilo was pulled back to Italy by a major family financial crisis. That situation pushed Sark to perform his first step to his present life.

Sark had stolen money and gold from the safety deposit box in the room of the father who never was home. He never figured out how he broke the box's lock code, and Danilo never knew the true roots of the money. All Danilo knows is that he practically owes his family's life to Sark. The money Sark had given his family had been used to finance the flourishing business that is the dessert lounge Sark and Sydney are temporarily taking shelter in.

A woman approached Sydney, who she assumed is the wife of Danilo by the similar accent they shared, the assumed age, and the wedding ring on her finger. "Hello, are you with Julian?"

"Uh, yes. But we are not…_together_"

The woman handed her a towel to dry herself, "Would you like some dessert and wine to share with Julian until the rain stops?"

Before she could answer, she was following the woman up to the second level and to the covered balcony. She sat down at the table for two and looked at the other couples inside enjoying their dates in this nice, cold night.

Sydney then heard footsteps from behind her, and Sark molded himself in his seat. He looked at her, looking back at him, such as he was reading her mind. Fair enough, he knew right on what she was thinking.

"Danilo used to be a cook in my home in Britain when I was just a young boy. He holds no threats to the United State's national security, so you could let whatever's theory you were brewing up about him go"

"And I was also going to ask what you two were talking about. But to prove that I'm not too paranoid, I'm letting that go. So I'm just going to ask you about the new information you got"

"Well, it's another bomb exchange" he paused to look for onlookers, and inched closer to Sydney. "Amazing how these deals go around on a regular basis"

She rolled her eyes, "Tell me about it. You are usually a part of it"

He smirked and leaned back on his wooden chair, "And you usually make it end badly for me"

"I'll take that as a compliment. Now continue…"

"From what I heard, a certain Schulze and Montoc are the key dealers—"

"Schulze…you mean Carlotta Schulze?"

He shrugged, "Since one was a woman, it is probable"

Sydney lightly threw her head back in laughter. She explained to a confused Sark that she had encountered Carlotta Schulze before in a mission. A male escort always accompanies the woman to everywhere, even if the escort turned out to be an agent working against her.

"So I guess this would be _another_ easy target"

"But I should tell you, she has strange preferences. She is heavily eccentric, and expects her escorts to be in the same appearance"

Sark blinked at her, "So, why are you telling me this?" his expression turned wicked, "Are you seriously telling me that _we_, you and I, are going to intercept with the exchange, outside of the CIA's orders? Why?"

"Because if we return, they might hold us back on debriefing, they would probably question your intel—"

"And you don't question it?"

But for the second time in the night, Danilo's wife cut off Sydney's words. The wife placed two wine goblets in their table and poured on a hefty serving of fine red wine. Danilo soon followed with freshly made tiramisu for them to share. The presence of candlelight glowing on their faces did not help lessen the romantic mood.

Sark noticed the foreign expression on Sydney's face, "What's wrong, Miss Bristow?"

"Nothing, I'm just thinking"

"May I know what you are thinking about?"

"No"

Sark's look pleaded with her. He raised his wine glass to her and took a sip. "Wine's perfect. You should at least try it while we are here"

"That's exactly what I'm talking about"

"What?"

"We are too…loose. Too lenient, or lax with each other"

He smirked "And what's wrong with that?"

"The original plan is to get the mission done. That's it" She crossed her arms, "Plus, I feel like I should be enjoying this with Vaughn…not you" she muttered.

Sark leaned closer to her, putting down his wine glass, and clasped his hands together. "What exactly are we enjoying, Miss Bristow?"

"Oh, don't play dumb with meIf we are on normal circumstances, no CIA, no bombs, no Rambaldi, no Sloane, no Mr. Sark, but instead a Julian Lazarey…" She struggled with her following words, her hands aiding her as she spoke, "…we would somewhat be on a date"

"The rain, the music, wine, dessert, candlelight, balcony, you and I" He nodded, "So it's a date, so why don't we just enjoy it. There's no surveillance, no one's listening on the other end, Sydney. We could consider this as our reward for 'mission accomplished'"

Sydney looked at him. Deep within her, she was considering the _consideration_. What could possibly happen? Well, a lot. But the wine and dessert looked too inviting for her to resist. Strangely, she did not feel a bit apprehensive about her decision.

"I am not seeing this as a date, but as a reward" She picked up her fork, "This better not be drugged"

"I've been eating it, I should be dead by now if it is"

"Darn"

"Finally, a smile from you. Your humor kills me, pun intended"

Sydney smile got wider at his latter comment and took a sip of her fine wine. "I'll have to remind you. I have this nasty habit of getting drunk on red wine"

"Well, that would be quite a show. An intoxicated Bristow"

She raised an eyebrow, "I also have self control, just so you know"

Sark pursed his lips and smiled. He wanted to say more, but words did not have to play a part in their so-called perfect date. He just picked his fork back up and enjoyed the rare moment in silence.

With their silence, there was an unspoken understanding. Sydney gave some thought about Sark's history with her, but quickly dismissed it. His current state made her think about his capability to be a normal person. Someone she could definitely be attracted to if it was not for his grim past.

Sark already was attracted to her, he made it clear in several occasions. She just never returned his feelings. They were reserved for someone else. That someone he thought he could break by having an affair with his wife. But that experience just left him lost, looking for the love he felt, and feeling empty. The only woman who returned his love was dead. And her husband went running back to the other woman he wanted.

o-o-o

"Home sweet home"

"Don't get too comfortable, we have to talk" Sydney tucked the bomb safely along with her weapons, checking it for certainty. "By the way, we'll drop the bomb off at the safe house before we leave. I'll leave a message to my father"

"Sydney we can't leave. There is still a tracking device on my chest, and the car…"

Sydney looked at him sitting on the edge of the bed, tapping his fingers together. "Oh yeah, you'll be sleeping on the floor"

He stood in surprise, "Are you being serious? It's been raining, the tiles are cold"

"There's the bench" She gave him a fake smile, "there are handles, perfect for handcuffs"

He traced his lower lip before pursing it, hiding his frustration. He walked towards the bench and stared at it. "Looks uncomfortable"

She stood behind him, "it's better than the floor, so don't complain" she looked at him, shaking his head at his wooden slab of a bed, "I need you to take a shower. After that, I'll take care of your bug and ask you a few questions. Make it fast"

Sark turned to her, keeping their distance limited. "A bath would be nice" He started undoing his shirt buttons, silently smiling, keeping their eyes locked. She stopped his warm hands mid-way. He bit his lower lip and smirked and he tossed his shirt aside.

"Stop, Sark. That won't work with me, just go" Sydney pushed him to the bathroom and shut the door. "Don't try anything funny"

o-o-o

Steam rushed out of the bathroom, but was pushed back in by Sydney holding a dissecting kit. "I'm not going to kill you"

Sark's voice trembled, "Then why are you here? Couldn't this wait until I get _outside_ the bathroom?"

"The steam neutralizes the tracking device on your chest when it's exposed to it" She took out a blade and positioned it in his right chest. "This is going to hurt"

He stiffened, taking in air, "I'm used to it"

Sydney used her free hand to open the hot water and let the steam rise. She was laughing in her mind at the thought of her and Sark in a 'steamy' situation. "Don't move"

"You don't have to tell me that"

She took the first cut, and made it the deepest. Like a splinter, the capsule sized device was pried out. Sark's steam infused blood trickled down his chest, his abdomen, and straight to her hands wiping it away with a damp cloth.

"Caught you red handed, Sydney"

Sydney laughed out loud for the first time in the night since the mention of Carlotta Schulze. "That was so lame, I had to laugh"

"May I see it?"

She handed him the blinking bug, "I'll dismantle it after it's deactivated and toss it out"

"And the car?"

"Yeah, I have to think about that too…Marshall never specified the position of the bug in there"

"I could offer my resources"

"Don't push your freedom, it's temporary"

Sark gave her back the bug and she placed it directly over the steaming showerhead. Like predicted, the blinking red light slowly went off. "Who were you planning to contact if I _do_ ask for your…"

"…Help?" he paused. "Alphonse Stanfa"

She went out of the bathroom and started fiddling with the bug, "Who's he?"

"Danilo's brother-in-law, he can be trusted, and relied upon. He is a former mafia kingpin" He pulled out a striking orange shirt that ironically had the words: '_CIA prisoner_' written in big, bold letters across it. "Could this be any more subtle?"

She laughed, "I bought that in Mexico, I couldn't help getting it"

"So what would be my next item of clothing? Let's see…cartoon pajamas?"

Sydney shook her head, "Back to business, Sark. We keep on getting off track" she tossed the mangled bug out of the window. "Are you telling me that we are going to enlist the help of a former _Don_?"

"He's been out of the business for a long time"

"How did you get contact with him?"

"Danilo's family needed the money, Alphonse's sister is part of the family. And I provided them the money"

"So now it's payback time"

"A payback from a don means death" he said, slipping on striking blue pajama bottoms. "It's a harmless favor, Sydney. Just transportation"

"Alright, handle that aspect first thing in the morning. Ask him if he can pull some strings with his connections so that we won't have to pass by customs in Heathrow"

"Actually Sydney, the location's in Marrakech. I said London to throw off any listeners"

The night grew colder, and their disobedience to the CIA got deeper as they smoothed out their plans. Everything was set for Sark's disguise; he would be a brunette the next day. Sydney would be with the getaway car and would be relaying guides from a distance through an earpiece she snuck in her op-tech bag. Easy as pie.

o-o-o

"If everything is set, then I'll go to bed"

"You mean, go to bench?"

"Right, bench"

Sydney smiled as she grabbed a pair of handcuffs and cuffed Sark to the bench handle. "I'll wake you up in the morning. And you'll make the call to Alphonse. And we're off"

"Do I not get a goodnight kiss?""

"Bite your tongue"

o-o-o

The room stayed silent as they retreated for the night. Sark remained in his wooden slab of a bed, handcuffed, and staring at the wooden support on the ceiling. He entertained himself by tapping his foot along the songs playing in his head. He flushed all the thoughts of being on a mission from his mind, only to be reminded when he moves his cuffed right hand.

All possible thoughts rushed to the space provided by the mission-mind cleansing. Sydney Bristow was not an exception. He recalled a period in his life when he craved to see her in missions, to see her new disguises, to hear her witty retorts. He also thought if his unhealthy attraction to her is just a phase or would it turn into something that could break his limits of emotions. Right now, he was just satisfied with harmless flirting…no emotions, no pain.

But as they say: _no pain, no gain._

o-o-o

_--to be continued--_


End file.
